She saw his purpose and his doubt hesitated also, and then went to him, took his coat lapels, and kissed him on the cheek. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. That he was hot and breathless was of no matter; in that moment he would have faced a dozen Samsons. As a matter of fact, I had never spoken to him before in my life. How many nuns were there in England who might have occasion to spy on Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom? The presence of the French refugees took on greater significance. Wild never was the associate of thieves.
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